Drops of Moonlight
by blue-eyed-blonde12
Summary: Blaine wants lots of things. He wants to watch Kurt fight monsters. He wants to break the chain that keeps him prisoner. He wants Santana to stop leaving hairballs on his bed. But mostly, he just wants Kurt. Fantasy AU
1. Chapter 1

Blaine liked Wednesdays.

Wednesdays meant dusting off the glass bottles on the shelves so that they reflected the dim candlelight.

Wednesdays meant Santana smirking at him as she licked her paws and trading amused glances with Mortimer.

Wednesdays meant trying to tame his hair with every substance he could think of.

Wednesdays meant Kurt.

Because every Wednesday, Kurt Hummel would step through the door, and pick up medicines for his father.

—-

Santana stretched lazily on her windowsill perch and jumped to the floor, shifting fluidly from cat to human.

Blaine was at the worktable, studying a thick tome and muttering to himself. She crept up beside him. "You need four extra pinches of dandelion if you want to modify it," she said, startling him as she leaned over his shoulder. Santana ran a finger across his notes, managing not to smear the fresh ink as she read his changes to the sleeping spell. "That book is outdated."

He sighed and turned around on the bench to face her. "I know, but it's all we've got right now," he frowned, taking in her new outfit. "Going somewhere?"

Santana shifted the folds of her skirt so that they'd hang correctly. "I was gonna go into town,"

"Not like that, you're not," he said, pointing at her low cut bodice. "I can see your cleavage!"

Santana huffed and crossed her arms. It didn't help matters. "This show isn't for you, so I don't see why you care. I'm going into town. You wanna go?"

Blaine's face fell. He silently moved his foot into her view and Santana's eyes softened at the sight of the delicate silver chain wrapped around his ankle.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," she murmured. Blaine shrugged.

"Not like he'd want to leave anyway. It's Wednesday."

Blaine blushed. "Mort, shut up."

Mortimer fluttered his leathery wings indignantly. "It's true though."

Santana reached over and flicked Mort on his pink nose. "Stop it. I'm leaving, no fighting without me."

Blaine turned back to the spellbook. "Be back before dark, Santana. I mean it. You can't fend off wolves when you're a foot tall."

Mort snorted, twin lines of smoke exiting his nose. "I beg to differ."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "You can't fend off wolves when you're not a foot tall dragoncat. Better?"

"I'll be back before I go all werekitty, I promise." Santana was already out the door. "See you tonight, Mama Hen."

Mortimer slipped off the shelf he'd been sitting on like a throne. He batted at the silver chain that wound its way around the cottage, the end disappearing into the wall itself. "Still no idea how to break this damn thing?"

Blaine sighed and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "It's a True Love curse. I know that much. Old bat always figured I didn't have one."

Mort jumped up onto the table. Blaine swept a hand over the soft fur of his back, massaging around the wingjoints as Mortimer purred. "What about Kurt, though? He likes you. And he knows the place behind my ears that needs scratched. You love seeing him."

Blaine blushed again but didn't deny it, running a finger over the stubby horns on Mort's forehead. "Kurt fights monsters. He could have his pick of anyone in the kingdom. He wouldn't want the dead miracle man's slave boy."

Mort licked his palm with a forked tongue. "Says who? You're not that bad for a human, if I do say so myself."

"Humans are complicated, Mort. It's not as simple as asking him to marry me."

"Humans are stupid." Mortimer paused and sniffed the air. "And you'd better tame the beast on your head if you don't want Kurt to see it. He's almost here."

Blaine scrambled to the mirror and made a valiant attempt at flattening his curls before there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"

The door creaked open on old hinges and Blaine turned with the most genuine smile he could manage. It probably looked psychotic. "Good afternoon, Kurt. I've got the medicine for your dad."

Kurt smiled and stepped further into the cottage, running a hand over Mortimer's back as the dragoncat climbed up on a chair to greet him. "No Santana today?" he asked, looking around and apparently noticing the absence of the sleek black cat.

Blaine shrugged as he shuffled things aside to find the bag marked 'Hummel'. "Out hunting mice, probably." If anyone ever noticed the coincidence of 'his' cat and the beautiful girl that sometimes came into the village having the same name, no one ever mentioned it.

Finally finding the sack, he handed it to Kurt and accepted the bronze coins Kurt dropped into his palm. Kurt's fingers grazed his and Blaine could swear that his heart stopped for a moment.

For some odd reason (probably the low lighting in the cottage) a rosy blush seemed to have been painted across Kurt's cheeks as he thanked him and left. Blaine shook off the thought and watched him go with a sigh.

Mortimer butted his head into Blaine's leg playfully. "Say what you want, Blaine, but you've got it _bad_."

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**Psst...yes, no, maybe so? If you'd like, my tumblr is hearjessroar. Come say hi or tell me that this fic sucks. Either or.**


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt enjoyed his weekly visits to the miracle man's cottage, partly because the miracle man himself was dead. The old man had been a nasty piece of work, tolerated only for his cures. He'd never liked Kurt.

The miracle man's assistant, on the other hand, was quite lovely.

He tucked the bag of medicine more firmly under his arm as he entered the village. Kurt had been planning on visiting Brittany, the tailor's daughter, to see if his cloak had been hemmed yet, but as he passed by he saw that the pretty dark haired girl was back.

Santana showed up every so often, slinking back towards the woods as sunset approached. She'd taken a liking to Brittany, in a way that made the old ladies mutter behind their hands.

Kurt continued on his way home, deciding to save the cloak question for another day.

As he was placing the jar into its spot in the cabinet, there was a scratching at the door. "Kurt! Kurt lemme in!"

That was Mortimer, Blaine's dragoncat. What on earth he'd be doing there, Kurt didn't know, but the beast was panting when Kurt opened the door.

"Two…things…" Mort wheezed. "One…Blaine forgot…to give you the…mint leaves you wanted," he nodded towards the small bag he'd apparently been carrying in his mouth. "Two, there's a manticore near the cottage. I could smell it on my way here."

Kurt's blood ran cold. He threw the little bag inside, not paying attention to where it landed, and made sure his scabbard was firmly attached to his belt before he sprinted through the town.

He could hear Mortimer exclaiming behind him, probably as he ran into villagers. There was the beating of wings and Mort was suddenly even with him, having given up on the use of his legs alone. "It didn't smell very big, but still. Blaine doesn't have anything to defend himself, and he can't leave the clearing."

Kurt briefly wondered why Blaine couldn't leave, but filed it away for later pondering as he pushed himself to run faster into the woods.

Mortimer sniffed as he flew, seeming to freeze as he picked up the scent. "It's that way," he said, pointing a paw to an area off the left of the path. Kurt swallowed and darted through the trees. He bit back a gasp when he saw it.

The human face was an evil sort of ugly, but Kurt wasn't scared by the teeth, no.

He was more worried about the tail.

More precisely, the spines on the tail.

The highly poisonous, very sharp, very shootable spines.

He gripped the handle of his sword tightly and shifted to get a better view. Above, Mortimer perched himself in a tree limb, ready to dive in as a distraction.

The manticore heard the minute crackling of bark and whipped around, spines shooting into the air like arrows. Kurt ducked behind the tree, but not fast enough. One grazed his arm, ripping through his shirtsleeve. He grit his teeth and looked up at Mort.

Mort seemed to understand and swooped in from the treetops to circle the beast's head. The manticore, distracted by the dragoncat, began to swipe at the air so as to kill him.

Kurt, who would later tell people he had no idea how he managed, crept up and sliced off the beast's tail at the base with one heavy swing of the sword.

The manticore roared in both pain and outrage, whirling and leaping at him. Kurt, anticipating this, rammed his sword deep into its belly, dividing it stem to stern.

The manticore fell on top of him in a mess of guts. Kurt managed to crawl out, wiping his sword on the grass. There was a choking sound and he looked up to see Blaine, staring at him from the cottage garden.

Kurt managed a weak smile before he passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine could do nothing as Kurt collapsed. He pulled the chain, feeling it rub the skin of his ankle raw and sore as he stretched towards Kurt as far as he could. It wasn't enough.

He looked around desperately for anything that could help. He spotted the dragoncat perched on a branch, licking at a small cut on his paw. "Mort! Mortimer! Drag him here!"

Mortimer wrinkled his nose as he leapt to the ground, but he obediently took Kurt's collar into his mouth and tugged as hard as he could. Kurt slid a few inches before Mort released him, sitting back on his haunches. "He's heavy, Blaine," he mewled, heaving for breath.

Blaine growled in frustration. "Try again, Mort!"

Mort whined, pulling at Kurt with all his strength. A couple more inches gained before Mort had to stop and rest. "Blaine, I can't, he's too hea-"

"Do it, Mortimer!"

Mort blinked at him, hurt and confusion in his green eyes. Blaine had never snapped at him like that before. There was a cracking sound in the woods and they both startled.

"Hey Blainers, leave Morty alone," Santana strode out from the trees. "He did the best he could, now let Aunty Tana handle this."

She reached down, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist and pulling his uninjured arm around her shoulders. With a half stumble, half drag, she managed to get him to Blaine.

Together they hauled Kurt into the cottage, heaving him onto Blaine's bed with no small amount of effort. Santana tore away the rest of his sleeve, making a disapproving tsk as she did so. "Your boytoy got himself cut by manticore spikes."

Blaine swore. "We'll need something to draw out the poison then,"

"Force it out. Violently. Something stronger than the usual, or he's a dead cookie."

Blaine turned to the workbench, but Santana's hand on his arm made him stop.

"You're gonna mismeasure, shaking like you are. Let me do it. Go comfort your eye candy, he's probably gonna start hallucinating any second now."

As if on cue, Kurt whimpered, grabbing at his injured arm. Blaine peeled his gripping fingers away gently, letting them curl tightly around his own. There was a soft pressure on his leg, and Blaine looked down to see Mort butting his head into Blaine's shin and looking up at him questioningly.

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry Mort," his voice was strained with fear for Kurt, but he made himself continue. "You did really well. I shouldn't have snapped." He reached down to softly run a finger between Mort's eyes. Mort purred, a thin stream of smoke releasing from his nose. He stood up on his back legs, placing his forepaws on the mattress to look at Kurt on the bed. He nosed carefully at the boy's still hand.

"He'll be okay, right?"

"If this potion doesn't kill him, he should be." Santana said grimly, handing Blaine a freezing cold goblet of purplish liquid. He propped Kurt up against the headboard and tilted the potion down his throat. Santana immediately shoved a bucket into his hands. "Trust me on this. It ain't gonna be pretty."

She was right. Kurt jolted, staring at them for a split second before ripping the bucket out of Blaine's hands and emptying his breakfast.

Santana made a face. "Ew."

Blaine, without really consulting his own brain beforehand, moved so that he was sitting next to Kurt against the headboard. He rubbed a hand in circles over Kurt's back, feeling it shift from clammy cold to burning hot and back again.

Eventually, the sickness stopped and Kurt collapsed again, though this time thankfully onto Blaine's chest, and out of exhaustion instead of impending doom.

Santana wrinkled her nose as she took away the bucket. Mort, who had hidden under a chair with both paws firmly over his nose, joined them on the bed and curled up happily in Blaine's lap.

Santana perched on the edge of the mattress. "You know this means we have to tell him, right?"


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt's head felt like it was stuffed full of spiderwebs. His entire body ached, though he was resting against something delightfully comfortable. He groaned as sudden pain split through his arm.

There was a gentle pressure on his shoulder and a soft sniffing near his face. "Kurt? Santana, I think he's awake." Smokey breath drifted across his nose and he coughed. "Oh, sorry Kurt!" Mort sat back down on his haunches as Kurt opened his eyes. He realized with a jarring start that he was leaning quite heavily on a sleeping Blaine. The jolt sent shocks of pain from his arm into the rest of his body and he groaned again.

"You're not gonna be slaying any monsters for awhile, but hey, you're alive." the mysterious Santana from the village was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He looked at her in confusion as she handed him a mug of water. "Blaine can explain it to you when he wakes up," she said, looking out a nearby window with a pained look. "I won't be of much use in a few moments."

Before he could ask what she meant, there was a gut-churning yowl and suddenly there was no Santana.

Or more precisely, the space that Santana had been sitting was now occupied by a familiar ebony cat with burning yellow eyes.

The cat eyed him, as if daring him to say anything. Kurt gulped, the water in his mug starting to ripple with the movement of his shaking hands.

Strong, calloused fingers tugged the mug from his unsteady grip. Blaine was awake, scrubbing his free hand hand through his hair. "I suppose you'd like an explanation,"

"Damn right I would!" Kurt tried to put some distance between him and Blaine, but his throbbing limbs protested greatly at the movement. "What the hell just happened with Santana, and why you can't leave the clearing, for starters!"

Blaine smiled ruefully, setting the mug on the endtable beside the bed. Mort, who had curled up in Kurt's lap and was currently radiating heat like the furnace he was, looked up.

"It's the same story, though."

"Hush, Mort. Though I suppose you're right,"

"I'm always right."

Blaine flicked his nose. Mort hissed and moved to bury his face in Kurt's neck, his horns poking into the delicate flesh there. Kurt winced. "Get on with it, will you?"

Blaine sighed, reaching out to pull Mortimer off Kurt. "You know the miracle man, right?"

"Everyone knew that old arse."

Blaine's chuckle was humorless as he dropped a wriggling Mort to the bed. "Then you also know that Santana and I weren't exactly volunteers when it came to working for him."

It was no secret that the man had kept orphans as slaves. It was just something the villagers put up with, no matter how much they disapproved. "Yes," Kurt murmured. "I know."

"The bastard's been dead for years but he still got us a good one in the end. She and I thought we'd be free when he croaked, but no such luck." Blaine reached down and pulled the silver chain into view. "This is my curse. That," he nodded towards the disinterested cat now licking her paws. "is hers. He gave me knowledge, but I can't leave to share it. He made her a shapeshifter, but after sunset, she's stuck like that. If she tries to change back, it's apparently like knives stabbing into her very soul."

Kurt absently stroked Mortimer's fur, who had wormed his way back between them. "How are they broken?"

"That's the thing," Blaine looked down. "Ebenz always said that neither of us could have a true love because we preferred our own gender. That's how we know they're True Love curses. Problem is, the nutcase had all the books that included True Love enchantments charmed to go up in flames when he died. We don't know the specific details of either of them,"

"So you don't know exactly how to break them," Kurt finished. Blaine nodded sadly. "Is that why Santana's been chatting up Brittany for the last year or so?"

"Oh, the mysterious lady now has a name?" Blaine's voice took on a teasing edge as he turned to look at Santana. Her yellow eyes narrowed dangerously and she hissed.

"Santana says she'll slit both your throats if you bring up Britt again," Mortimer translated sleepily, snuggling into the side of Blaine's thigh.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was too exhausted to make it safely home that night, so Blaine sent Mortimer out to explain to Burt why his son would be absent for a few days.

Blaine busied himself with making a weak Healing potion for Kurt. Too strong and it would do more harm than good, but at just the right potency, it would soothe a sore throat. Violent vomiting tended to wreak havoc on the tender flesh of the esophagus and he was sure Kurt was hurting even more than he let on.

Santana had seated herself on the worktable, occasionally pawing at bottles he'd need to dilute the brew so he would add them in the correct order. For all his intelligence, he was completely scatterbrained at times. Especially when he was nervous.

Finally, he handed Kurt a tumbler of opaque orange liquid. Kurt downed it without a second thought, coughing slightly as he handed it back to Blaine. It took a few seconds, but Kurt blinked and smiled at him in surprise. Blaine had to look away, firmly telling himself that he was not blushing.

Kurt didn't bring up the chain again, though Blaine caught him looking at it a few times as he puttered about. It was hard to ignore, all glinting silver and a tinkling sound as it slithered on the floor. But Blaine appreciated the effort.

He'd nearly been asleep sitting up on the uncomfortable workbench, content to let Kurt take his bed with no fuss (though plenty on Kurt's part) when Santana bolted to her feet with a hiss. She scratched at the door desperately and shot into the night when Blaine lifted the latch.

Puzzled, he'd stared into the darkness after her for a few seconds before moving to close the door. A pained mewl stopped him.

As he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the shape of Santana, dragging something heavy in her mouth. But the whining wasn't the black cat.

It belonged to the wounded Mortimer she was pulling.

Startled, he darted into the yard as far as the chain would allow, using the light of the moon to give Mort's injuries a once over. He decided the most severe looked like a ripped wing and that it was probably okay to pick him up.

Mortimer gave a pathetic meow and buried his face into the crook of Blaine's neck, Santana trotting along behind them.

Kurt was sitting ramrod straight on the edge of the mattress as Blaine cleared off the worktable as best he could one handed. The other stroked blood-matted fur in an attempt to comfort the dragoncat that clung to his shoulder.

Santana had pulled a folded quilt from under the bed, bumping it into Blaine's leg. He spread it on the table, setting Mort down gently. Touching the torn skin of the wing, he muttered apologies under his breath as Mort flinched away from his fingers.

Without him realizing it, Kurt had managed his way over to the workbench, pushing one of their buckets of water with his foot. Blaine gave him a grateful smile and Kurt staggered back to the bed. He dipped a clean rag into the cool liquid and wrung it.

"What happened?" he murmured, using the damp cloth to wipe blood off Mort's horns.

Mortimer snuffled, rubbing a paw over his nose. "Big scary thing tried to eat me. It ran away when I breathed fire, but LOOK AT MY WING!" he wailed. If dragoncats could cry, Blaine would bet his chain that Mort would have drowned them by now. He bit his lip.

"I can't fix this, Mort. I have to get Tina."

Mort nodded, resigned. "I hate the vet," he grumbled as Santana once again shot into the night, a rolled up note grasped in her teeth.

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**I apologize for the small delay.**


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